


The Things She Kept (Syrah Syara One-Shot)

by overstrand_marcia_i



Category: Septimus Heap - Angie Sage
Genre: Angst, Magyk, Other, Septimus Heap - Freeform, syren - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 00:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14148222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overstrand_marcia_i/pseuds/overstrand_marcia_i
Summary: Syrah Syara mustn't forget the things that keep her tethered to home and reality.





	The Things She Kept (Syrah Syara One-Shot)

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own or claim any relation to the Septimus Heap franchise. All canon characters are credited to Angie Sage. This is simply fancontent, created for other fans.

The Things She Kept:  
Syrah Syara One-Shot

Syrah Syara had almost nothing in the world anymore. She kept all the tiny fragments of who she was in her pocket…a box of these things right next to her journal. It was always close to her, held against her body so she wouldn’t forget. She couldn’t forget; if she forgot, she would be lost, and Syrah Syara had already lost so much.

She couldn’t forget herself.

Syrah Syara kept a mirror. She had been given the tiny, gilded, purple mirror as a present on the day of the Draw. In her excitement beforehand, she had stuffed it away in a pocket and had forgotten about it until she had reached the Island. Now, as painful centuries passed, Syrah Syara glanced into that little mirror every so often to remember what she looked like. But after the **Syren** had taken her, she had no way of knowing if what she saw in the mirror was real anymore.

But she refused to forget to look in the mirror.

Syrah Syara kept a few orange and clear glass beads in the bottom of her box. They’d once been threaded onto a bracelet she never took off, a bracelet given to her by Julius Pike. The bracelet’s string had snapped as the dolphin carried Syrah Syara through the waves that fateful night. She just barely grasped at three beads before they sank under. Most of the beautiful beads from her life slipped from her fingers as she landed on the Island’s shores. A part of Syrah Syara had slipped under the waves with the other beads and drowned that night; the person that came ashore was already missing pieces of herself.

But she wouldn’t forget the beads she had clung to.

Syrah Syara had kept other things too, things that had come from the Island. A compass, old and rusty, had washed up on the beach the second day (Or was it the hundredth?). Though battered and alone, it stubbornly pointed northward, and so Syrah Syara put it in her box. She felt like the compass often, alone and unable to escape the magnetic attraction of the **Syren** , and when she did, she tried once more to **Call** her dolphin. But the dolphin was never to come again. 

It was gone and she couldn’t forget it.

Syrah Syara kept a necklace too. Before she had come to the Island, it had seldom left her neck. It had been a gift from her mother, the person who helped her love both **Magyk** and herself. The polished clay had always shone bright and Syrah Syara had always worn it proudly, but now? Now she choked up whenever she saw it. She couldn’t bear to look at it without her heart aching for the family she had left behind.

But she refused to throw the necklace into the sea and forget it.

Syrah Syara kept the **Questing Stone**. She couldn’t bear to part with the **Stone** , as much as nightmares about it plagued her when the sun went down. It felt like her last untouched connection to home, to Julius. When she had come to the Island, it had shimmered brilliant silver, but as the centuries passed, it had become dark and tarnished. The golden **Q** , however, shone as bright as it had that horrible day she had taken it from the **Questing Pot**. She held it close to her because if she didn’t, she might forget.

And she couldn’t forget.

The **Syren** wanted so desperately to pull her away from the past, wanted to make her a lifeless puppet. The **Syren** wrote to her every night…all across her journal, across the box, but Syrah Syara held on tight to the things she kept.

She wouldn’t forget.


End file.
